


Hush

by orphan_account



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 07:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Silence shall travel in a vacuum if we command it to.———Mairon has been alone for too long. Now he is in the emptiest place in the world, and all has failed, but it is not the end.





	Hush

Nothingness is hard to comprehend.

He can’t hear anything. Whether this is because sound doesn’t travel here, or because there is nothing to hear at all, he doesn’t know. He does not know if he wants to know.

There is no light here either. He focuses, and then there is light, curling in the palm of his hand. It is almost alive, almost breathing. It is self made. It is comforting, in this large empty place. He still has some power, if only the power to see a small portion of nothingness.

Once, his power was greater than this. He could ensure the minds of some of the most powerful, but he has fallen now, to only a shadow of what once was. This little flame is enough though. He has no use for all of the greatness of ages past. There is one thing he wants now, one thing that can be found somewhere in nothing. This remainder of his power will serve that purpose. His only purpose.

Perhaps, he thinks, this was always his path. For all his trying, he did not get what he wanted, what he still wants, when his power was great. He was stripped of almost all of it. Now, though, he is merely him, without the smoke and mirrors, and everything he used to convince himself that he had strength. He is just his own broken heart and memories of loss and love. He is his own song, without the harmony of the other that he once clung to.

He looks around. There is only nothing, and more nothing. He hopes that there is something out in the dark, something that his little light cannot reach. He does not know where to go, or even if he should. He has never prepared for this eventuality, never dared think of ending up here. In his rising fear, and deep, aching loneliness, he leans on an old comfort.

He begins to sing.

It is his song, old and well known. It sounds strange and lonely without an accompanying part, and he feels a tear roll down his cheek. He is alone. He is truly alone, without hope for ever finding what he had looked for, fought for, lost for, longed for, for so long.

The little light dies in his hand.

It is replaced by what feels like a hand.

“Mairon?”

The voice is hoarse from disuse, but it is still memorable. It is still Melkor’s, and Mairon only weeps harder at hearing it.

He turns to where he can hear Melkor’s voice coming from. It has been so long. He has been so lonely. But he is not now, and he knows that he will not be ever again. The remainders of Mairon’s power burst forward suddenly, new lights, brighter ones, hanging around them. Mairon can see Melkor’s face once again. He reaches out to touch it with his free hand, unbelieving at first, and then more joyful than words could express.

Mairon’s tears are falling freely, and Melkor brushes them away quickly, crying himself.

“Hush, love, hush. It’s alright, I’m here.”

Nothingness is still hard to comprehend for Mairon. The great darkness beyond the lights, and everything that it means. But his world has shrunk to no more than Melkor’s arms wrapping around him, and all of the things that he was whispering in Mairon’s ear.

This is the easier to understand.


End file.
